Would that I could call you back
take up seeds and sow them deep
roots so strongly based on earth
even angels could not
escape with you enfolded in their wings.
This is my dreamscape.
You, alive with hope,
for many tomorrows.
For dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday and we’re asked to use the word “dream” or some form of it, in a 44 word poem.Also published today, Film Noir, Take 38 which uses all 38 words given as prompts thus far in our current quadrille cycle. Hope you’ll click on the title and read it too! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo: This is my dear friend, Louise. She died in February 2017, after battling ovarian cancer for two years.
Standing in lunar light, hands extended to cloudy, star studded skies, I scream to the heavens. Silhouette me!
This cursed disease. It is a time machine with rusted levers. Disengaging cogs cranking ever more slowly. They will stop far too soon. I cannot leave shadows behind. Dark thoughts of what-ifs and could-have-beens. Family and friends who will only remember the deep hollows of my eyes. The chaffed dry skin pulled tautly across these brittle bones.
They deserve better. I deserve better. Realign your celestial scrim! If there be Ursa Major, then let there be me. A forever galaxy of light.
Originally written for a Flash Fiction challenge/competition I saw — to write a piece of 100 words or less, using the word “silhouette.” Unfortunately, I waited too long and the deadline was past. Assurances to my readers: this is fiction. Photo in public domain at Pixabay.com
Sprawled on faded flaccid couch,
she snores guttural gumpfs and wheezes.
A warped pendulum creaks . . . shudders . . . stops . . .
clock face sags in disrepair.
Rodent feet in plaster-dust slippers
scurry inside flaking walls.
Spotlight dims. Floorboards creak.
Vamp sounds of decay.
Enter Death as curtain falls.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday (a poem of 44 words – not including the title – no more; no less). Today Victoria is hosting and asks to use the word “sound.” Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time! PS: after a wonderful month + trip that included a TransAtlantic cruise and cruises through the Norwegian Fjords, Iceland and Ireland, it’s great to be home! Enjoying my regular early morning writing and reading time again.
Shadows tread in life’s past.
Embers gleam red passion,
pale to ashen grey.
Ship wakes sink into oblivion.
Sand dollars, once much more.
posed in serious countenance,
fade frozen in corroded frames.
Vestigial pock marks upon the earth.
Life marches forward
into the past.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. April is national poetry month so drop by to imbibe some words with us – or better yet, step up to the bar, no prompt on OLN. It’s an opportunity to share as you wish! Bar opens at 3:00 PM Boston time. Photo in public domain.
Endings pivot to less beginnings
emptiness beside waking self.
someone’s last dawn
awakens another’s grief.
Photo taken in Provincetown, MA, on Cape Cod.
Christmas lights flicker
like memories this time of year.
Snow falls quietly
somehow ignorant of her pain.
Dedicated to all those who have difficulty this time of year . . . facing personal challenges, illness, grief, or loss. And remembering those who are no longer with us to celebrate this holiday season.
And her spirit shall live within the sea
immortality within its ebb and flow.
Ashes tossed from sandy shore catch wind,
float quietly ‘neath shifting clouds
sink, adhere to anemones
and sail on dolphin fins.
Her smile illuminates in lunar path,
glistens under golden sun.
And generations shall feel her touch
toes stepping, leaping within her waves.
The earth moved, an aperture in time.
Tectonic plates shifted within her soul
left behind an open space,
a void within her life.
She stood above where he lie.
Moist grass licked her ankle bones,
feet planted firmly as she stared down,
eyes a spiral, boring deep and deeper still.
And when the summer storm came
she gently lowered herself,
a prostrate form upon the mound,
to protect him from the pelting rain.
She imagined his shape beneath hers,
tucked her arms close in beneath her chest.
Face resting upon the stone
she felt the granite, cool upon her cheek.
I love you always she whispered.
And lying still among the tombs
lying with him once again,
she felt his love within her heart.
Did you hear the winds rustle that day?
Metaphors soared on the backs of gulls.
Thousands of unused words,
ideas not yet writ,
wended their way into the night sky.
A poet’s earth journey complete,
she lives now, forever beautiful,
among the shimmering stars.
Quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse as Grace asks us to use the word “journey.” dVerse is celebrating its fifth anniversary this week. Link up to join in the celebration!
Written in memory of poet Viv Blake who died suddenly on July 5, 2016. Photo taken while in Portland, Maine this past June.
Slivers of stardust
Stairway to heaven
lightens the way.